


these things are sent to try us

by uqu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Comedy, M/M, Roommates, Slow Burn, also a lot of mullet jokes, ish?, may or may not be based off of what is this feeling from wicked, there's a little one-sided sheith too because that's my shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7405954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uqu/pseuds/uqu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance's roommate is the worst (the best).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i can't believe lance is fucking dead

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have my laptop and I'm in ten deep under with klance so I needed something to express how much I hate these boys
> 
> I don't write fics often so!!! Please feel free to tell me what I did wrong I'm open to suggestions (my twitter is @uqudraws I love talking about how klance and keith ruined my life just saying)

Lance grumbled under his breath as he slammed his forearm into the walk button, shuffling his feet and rolling his bike over the rocks kicked onto the sidewalk. He heard somewhere that the walk buttons don't actually do anything, but honestly he can't take the chance right now. Of course, _of course_ today was going to be the day he forgets to set his alarm.

_"¿Buenos dias esleeping beauty, dormiste bien? ¡Ya levántate, arriba, arriba!"_

He groaned, louder this time and sloppily ran his fingers through his hair, checking his reflection in the puddle. If his morning was going to be any sort of sign, he is clearly not ready for anything his freshman year at college throws at him. He twiddled with one particularly stubborn piece of bleached-brown hair.

_Good enough, I guess._

He leaned a little more on the seat of his bike. It was clear that there was no way he was going to make his morning class if he didn't say goodbye to his sweet dreams of hot alien babes crowning him intergalactic ( _interplanetary? inter-spacial?_ ) prince. He's grateful, he figures, that at least Hunk was already on his way to the dorms and he was able call him to pick up his bags.

_"Racing to the first day of school on your bike? All you need is a fresh piece of toast hanging out of your mouth and a crash-encounter with an aloof love interest. You're basically a shoujo protag, Lance."_

_"I don't need another anime lecture, Hunk, now is not the time. And besides, I'm clearly the suave rival type."_

He tapped his foot. Scraping together money for the dorm payments at the last second that couldn't be covered with what little financial aid he had wasn't easy (there was a lot of manager ass-kissing and groveling involved) and he was fortunate enough to get a room assignment, albeit a little later than others moving in. He applied to be roommates with Hunk, but there was no guarantee they would be sharing a room together. Which. Was. Unthinkable. Him and Hunk had been friends since he saved his ass in Biology that one time he said orgasm instead of organism during their presentation ( _classic_ ) and Hunk decided to play it off like it was on purpose. After that, they were sworn Bros for Life(TM), and not trying to get a dorm with him was out of the question.

_But._

There were a lot of applicants to the school from out of state- who knows what kinds of people he would meet? He could live with it, he supposes, considering Lance's grandmother (who was happy to remind him this morning that she so graciously allowed him to stay there for college) only lived around 45 minutes away by bike but he wasn't sure if he would be able to take it every day. _But what if they're like a neat-freak or something?_ He started to roll his bike across the crosswalk. Lance was not a slob, by any means, but he was prone to leaving his dirty laundry in piles strewn across his floor. _What if they're a murderer?_ He enjoyed not waking up to his intestines being splayed out in front of his eyes, thank you very much. .. _.What if they're hot?_

"Watch out!"

Lance didn't have much time to react, however, because by the time he broke out of his dorm mate musings he was already falling to the ground with a splash and a thud in a blur of black and red.

_I guess I'll have to call Hunk and tell him to butter my toast too, then._

\---

_"Hey, are you alright?"_

_Nothing._

_"Can you speak? I'm trained in first aid, I can help."_

Lance mumbled something and slowly opened his eyes looking downward, immediately bringing his hand to the side of his temple because God, that hurt. He managed to snap his focus towards the hand outstretched in front of him, and then up at it's owner.

"You're lucky I had time to slow down, or you could've been seriously hurt." He kept a straight face, with only the slightest bit of concern in his strong furrowed brow. His hair clung to his forehead, likely from helmet sweat, making it hard to tell from first glance that _yes_ , this guy seriously had a mullet and _yes_ , he was kind of hot.

"I'm _lucky_?"

"Yes, motorcycle accidents are nothing to scoff at."

Clearly the incredulousness in his voice was not enough to tell this achy-breaky asshole that, no, he was not lucky to have run his bike into his Yamaha R6 and nearly break every bone in his wonderfully gangly body.

"Can you stand?"

Lance took the opportunity, ignoring Angus Macgyver's helping hand to get to his feet by himself. He dusted off his jeans and shrugged his shoulders.

"I guess you aren't paying for my college tuition this time, mulle- _auGHHHHH_ "

Lance wobbled backwards, the motorcyclist catching his shoulder to help steady his balance. He clutched at his head, which throbbed with dull pain at every movement.

"Here, get on."

\---

In other circumstances, Lance would have vehemently disagreed to anything involving him riding tandem on a motorbike with some cocky douchebag like a swooning damsel in distress, because he was too cool for that and clearly he didn't need help from someone who just ruined his entire morning- but he decides he can blame it on confusion from a near concussion. He was currently clutching onto the motorcyclist's waist with one hand, and onto his head for any pressure that could stop the stabbing sensation with the other. In his mind, there was just way too much going on for him to think clearly anyways.

"So, where are you headed?" the rider shouts as they slow down for a turn, trying to make sure that the injured passenger could hear him.

Oh yeah, _school_. He almost forgot about the whole _I'm-gonna-be-late-if-I-don't-make-like-my-nutsack-and-haul-balls_ situation.

"Uh, just a little down this street," he raises his voice because talking over the sound of air rushing past his ears is much harder than he thought and swallows, "Galassia University."

"I was headed there for my morning class anyways. Are you a freshman too?"

Oh god, no- this guy cannot be his classmate. He already can't stand him and he's only known him for the past ten minutes.

"I guess." he says, noncommittally, because the last thing he wants is for his first acquaintance at Galassia to be a member of the Mullet Force.

"Hold on tight, I'll try to get us there on time." he said, punctuated with a particularly sharp turn.

"Can you cool it with the reckless driving, speed racer?"

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

He decided to keep quiet, because the drive from there was only maybe a minute long and he was running out of mullet jokes. He couldn't help but notice his pulse quicken a bit whenever his chest would lean against his leanly muscular back and his hands brush his abdomen, and it was pissing him off because _he's not allowed to be attracted to someone so infuriating damnit._

The motorcycle slowly chugged to a stop (much better than crashing, he thinks) and the cyclist moved to allow Lance to stand on his now-jelly legs.

"Easy there," he said, allowing him to lean his arm on his shoulder (Lance was a bit taller, he proudly noted to himself) and quickly but carefully hobbled to the doorway. Lance shifted his weight back onto his legs and opened the door on his own.

"Do you need a nurse or something?"

Lance shook his head. There was about ten minutes until class started, so at the very least he would have time to grab an Advil and some water before the Professor got pissed at him.

"What class do you have?"

"None of your business. Can I just suffer through the rest of this morning peacefully, please?" Lance kind of wishes that he had actually sustained a gruesome injury from the crash, because then at least he could be somewhere in a hospital bed softly dying right now.

"Look, I'm sorry that I hit your bike, but if we're gonna be in the same major I don't want you to hate me."

"One, I already hate you, and two, same major?"

"Yeah, unless the Avionics textbook sticking out of your bag was just something you just picked up for a fun summer read." his sarcasm was practically dripping.

"Ugh, I don't need sass from you, Mr. _Business in the Front, Party in the Back_." That one was good, he thinks offhandedly to himself. "I'm gonna go find a bat to knock myself in the head harder with, if you'll excuse me."

The offending motorcyclist rolled his eyes and walked off in some other direction, leaving him alone. _Finally._ He made his way to the nearest vending machine and shoved his fist around in his jacket pocket for some loose change among the gum wrappers and lint. He got himself a water bottle and happened to find a couple of ibuprofen in the front pocket of his bag and downed the entire thing.

 _So that asshole was in the same major, huh?_ Just his luck.

He scuffed his feet as he walked, waiting for the painkillers to kick in.

Maybe he could change majors. Interior design doesn't seem _that_ bad. Except when he remembers that one time he tried to help his older sister arrange her room and he somehow managed to cover up every outlet in the room with a piece of furniture, and she decided to just do it herself. He sat down in the back of the classroom and rubbed his temples. Maybe, just maybe that will be their last encounter.

"Well, let's waste no time getting started. Welcome to Avionics 102- my name is Professor Iverson, and I'm pleased to see you all here. My assistant teacher, Takashi Shirogane, will be calling role." He gestured over to the world's most handsome student teacher. This man was drop-dead gorgeous, even by Lance's "bi and not so ready to try" standards. He was clearly well-built, and Lance found himself wishing that he could both politely shake his hand and motorboat his abs ( _because there's no way he didn't have a fucking 16 pack when he had arms like those)_.

"Please, just call me Shiro," he smiled sheepishly. "Stand up and say here when I call your name."

His voice trailed off as he listed off what seemed to be an endless list of names he wasn't familiar with, and he prayed that at least one person in this class would already be someone he knew. _Be careful what you wish for, buddy._

“Keith Kogane?”

And of course, there it is. That god forsaken mullet.


	2. omelette du fromage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let this poor boy live
> 
> Also Allura is studying political sciences!! It's not an important detail but one of my hidden talents is making up parts of an au that will never come into play ever
> 
> EDIT: I added a small part at the end because it felt awkward at the beginning of the next chapter ((I told you I was new to this ahhh))
> 
> EDIT 2: Thank you so much to Kitakyuu for help with Allura's French!!! I was so bad at it in high school ahaha :,3c

"Oh my god, are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? Concussions are like, pretty serious dude. You could actually die."

"Listen, Hunk, I'd rather die than have to ask for notes from Mulletface. He's the only one I know that has the same classes as me and until I friend it up with someone else, I'll take my chances with the internal bleeding."

Lance stirred his horchata and groaned as Hunk neatly set napkins underneath his fries to keep the grease off of his aerodynamics notes. He rested the side of his cheek firmly on his palm and lamented further about his morning mischief.

"It could've been worse, he actually did get me to school on time on his stupid motorcycle."

"You rode the motorcycle? Jeez, just thinking about any non-enclosed motor vehicle that goes more than 5 miles per hour makes me want to lose my lunch." Hunk pushed his fries away from him and made a exasperated face.

"Yeah, it wasn't exactly smooth sailing either. Apparently, the passenger is supposed to lean with the driver on turns, which lead to me clinging to him like a schoolgirl to her bad biker boyfriend."

Hunk shrugged and continued to highlight words in pink through the endless pages of paper. Lance buried his face into his crossed arms.

"I dropped your stuff off at the front desk of the dorms, by the way. They said that there more were applicants with accommodation needs than they expected, so they ended up being unable to grant a bunch of roommate requests. Something about an uneven number of people who needed a non-smoking roommate or whatever."

"Ugh, why does God hate me? I'm a good guy, y'know?"

Just as he was about to see how hard choking himself with a plastic spork would be, a confused, feminine voice snapped him out of his self-destructive delusions.

_"Pardonnez-moi, est-ce que, euh... non... pouvez-vous m'aider à... hmm..."_

Oh, _yes_. This is what Lance had been praying for (aside from a swift and painless execution): a helpless victim to Lance's boyish charms and limited knowledge of Latin based languages. The girl was darker skinned with platinum blonde hair pinned in a loose bun atop her head, and judging by the French-to-English dictionary in her hand and her calm, but clueless expression on her face, she was an exchange student. She was walking in circles, presumably trying to ask a passerby for directions.

"Oh, _no_ , Lance. You are not going over there. I still need help with these notes, do you understand? _No. Girls_." Hunk was firmly asserting against Lance's one chance at saving this terrible day.

He grinned. _"Hon hon hon, désolé Monsieur, je ne parle pas l'anglais!"_

Hunk shouted after him. "You don't even know French, you dumbass!" It was too late, Lance was already man-whoring it up.

" _Pardonnez-moi, Mademoiselle_. You seem to be lost, is there anything I could assist you with?" he said, sliding in to grasp her shoulder. He tried his best to mimic her pronunciation, but hey, it's the thought that counts here. Her eyes lit up at his words.

"Oh, _merci beaucoup_! Je m'étais perdu sur mon chemin vers les dortoirs et je me suis retrouvé ici, mais, à ma grande consternation, les directions que je recevais étaient trop compliqués à comprendre pour moi. Si vous pouviez me diriger vers les dortoirs, je serais ravi!"

Lance could gather at least a little bit of what she said (something about the dorms and the directions were too complicated to comprehend), so instead of repeating anything incriminating back to her he just nodded. Out of the corner of his vision he could see Hunk, rolling his eyes with his palm to his face.

" _Oui, oui!_ I happen to be on my way to _les dortoirs_ right now, I can be your guide."

"Ah, _d'accord_." He has no idea what that means, but she's following him, so it's a win in his book.

He waves back at Hunk, who has angrily taken his horchata and given him a look that says "I swear on my mom's grave, and my mom's mom's grave, and my mom's mom's mom's grave that I will kill you the next time I see you." Eh, he'll get over it.

Now taking a look at the map, he finds the dorms only a building over from where they were at the food court and student commons.

"The name's Lance, by the way- can I ask yours?"

" _Je m'appelle_ Allura."

Allura, huh? _Ooh_ , he likes it.

"Well, _Allura_ ," he starts, adding a little accent on the "r" for good measure. "I'll have you know you're in good hands. I'll lived around these parts for my entire life, so I'm _basically_ an expert on all things Galassia. We just have to walk down this walkway here, turn left and _Voilà_! All you have to do is get on the elevator to your floor and look for your room number. I happen to already be going the same way, so I can walk you!"

She just nodded with a knowing smile, so he assumed that she could at least sort of understand spoken English. They walked for a bit and entered the front doors to the information desk. A man with a curly mustache turned in their direction and waved. Lance figured this is the guy Hunk must have given his bags to.

"Uh, my friend left my bags here, but I'm _kind_ of trying to look cool for this hot chick over here so can y-"

" _Oncle_!"

The mustachioed man kept walking past him to greet Allura, kissing each other on the cheeks. He wrapped her in tight hug.

"Ahhh, Allura, _ma bichette_! How was your trip?"

Lance was suddenly feeling very out of place very fast.

"Ah, Lance, is it? Yes, your friend did drop your bags off. You can take them right there to the elevator." he said, smoothing over his mustache with his gloved fingers. "I would assist you, but I have to show my niece here to her room. If I remember correctly, you're in room 210. It's towards the end of the hallway, if you turn left at the elevator you should see it."

Ugh, really?

The mustache man showed him and Allura to the elevator, pressing the up button while he rambled on about the "rich history of the dorms at Galassia, built in 1984 with five different buildings, under the direction of Vice Principal Sven Holgersson," or something like that.

Entering through the sliding metal doors, he hears a small "Lance" from behind him, and his heart swells. He turns to face Allura, expectantly, and in return Allura just gives a kind nod.

" _Merci beaucoup._ "

"No, _merci beau cul_ to you, Allura." Lance cooed, leaning his elbow into the elevator door. "How do you say, 'can I get your number' in French, again?"

She just laughs, and Lance assumes from being rejected many times that it was not because of his devastatingly charming personality. She speaks in (broken) English this time, in between giggles.

"You're, euh... cute. Like a, how you say... sad dog?"

If there were a auditory manifestation of the critical hit just dealt to Lance's ego, he supposes it would sound something like a chorus of demoniac screams. It was quite amazing, actually, how she could completely demolish his ego in only a matter of nine words.

"Here," she flips to a page in her pocket dictionary and places it in his hand. " _Utilisez un dictionnaire la prochaine fois avant de vous embarrasser_."

The door opens and he stumbles backwards into the hallway. He glances down at the page- _oh, so that's what "beau cul" means_ \- and tries to convince himself that this has to be the lowest point of his day. It has to be. How could it get any worse?

He turns to open his dorm door, and _oh, boy_ it could get worse. _And it did._

"Whoa, whoa careful!"

All Lance can see before he hits the ground is a portable punching bag and that unmistakably shitty hair, pulled into a ponytail this time.

\---

"My name is Keith, you know," he said, spinning halfway to face Lance in his desk chair, adjusting his biker gloves. "And it's not like I _tried_ to make your entire day miserable."

Lance pressed the ice to his eye harder and grunted. "Are you sure? Because it kind of seems like every time I think my day is starting to turn around, your edgy, emo ass is there to drag it down."

Keith had the audacity to continue training with his punching bag, despite the fact that Lance had just been assaulted and was clearly vulnerable from the attack. Who even brings a punching bag to a dorm, anyways? Oh right, the same asshole who rides a motorcycle and keeps his hair in a _goddamn ponytail._

"Uh, it didn't seem like your day going too well for you before I bumped into you in the first place. So, like I said: not my fault." He broke his string of punches to stretch his back, raising one arm and lowering the other behind himself, then touching his index and middle fingers to each other.

Lance huffed as he crossed his arms and pouted exaggeratedly. "Unbelievable. You're not even going to take responsibility for it." he dramatically swooned backwards onto his bedspread, kicking a leg up and resting his free hand on his forehead. "Fine. Be that way. But remember that when I'm dead, you'll be sorry, and you'll only have the guilt and regrets of the past as your companions."

Keith sighed and continued to throw hooks, making sharp quick breaths with every swing. _Left, left, right. Left, right, right. Right, left, right._ "I don't know what to tell you. I already said I'm sorry multiple times."

Lance sat up again to use his hands to talk. "Just saying 'I'm sorry' doesn't cut it when you have caused injury to not only my beautiful face, but also my pride."

He switched from punches to push-ups now, grunting out his words. "From what I've seen, your ego is big enough to sustain a bit of damage."

"Oh, wow, thanks Keith! I can really feel the apologetic vibes. Whenever you're done with the Rocky IV montage, wake me and maybe I'll forgive you." Lance shoved one of his pillows over his face and tried really hard not to think about the fact that his throat was getting dry from the way Keith's triceps flexed when he wiped sweat from his brow and took a sip from his water bottle.

\---

"Wake up." Lance felt a sharp flick to his forehead and squinted at the source. Keith was sitting on his bed, leaning over to look him in the eye.

"I was kidding when I said I would forgive you. I probably can't. Ever." Lance grumbled, muffled by the comforters pulled up to his chin. He doesn't remember getting underneath them, but he's too pissed to care _(he doesn't think that Keith may have thrown the blanket over him, obviously, because there's no way in hell he would ever be anything but a hazard to his health, would he?)_

The shorter boy leaned back and covered his face with his hand, sighing. "Alright, grudge boy. Let's go get your bike. I'm pretty sure it's still where you left it this morning." _Oh right, his bike._ He completely forgot that he just left it sitting there. "I doubt anyone would've stolen it, it was kinda shitty."

"Wow, _thanks_. A real gentleman." Lance said, mostly teasing.

Riding on the motorcycle when he wasn't trying to race somewhere was a lot more pleasant than he had anticipated; the loud whirring of the bike earlier was reduced to just a purr, and the sharp, abrupt turns became smooth drifts into the clear night sky. It almost made him forget the close proximity of his chest to Keith's back and the weird intimacy it brought along with it. _Almost._

 


	3. choke me daddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so nervous about this chapter oh my gosh I hope everyone likes it
> 
> Lance's luck turns around FINALLY but at what cost. At what fucking cost

Lance clicked his pencil lead and spun it in a pirouette around his middle finger. If the lectures were going to be this long for just the introductory class to aviation, he might as well just try to fly the damn plane now and figure it out himself. _If I'm lucky, maybe I'll crash and I'll never have to listen to another 125 minute speech about the history of aircrafts again_. He was having difficulty even partially listening, and it didn't help that Lance was still pissed about his visit to the Galassia housing offices.

_"Mr. McClain, I'm sorry but we can't allow roommate changes until the end of the semester." the man at the desk straightened his papers and leaned in as he spoke._

_"You don't understand, he's like, probably some time-traveling fitness maniac from the 80's trying to kill me- like an emo-killer Richard Simmons! He's the worst!" Lance pleaded, slamming his palms on the desk._

_"We already received complaints about the punching bag and talked to Mr. Kogane about it; he agreed to only store it in his room from now on and carry it with him to the gym on-site."_

_"I don't care about the punching bag! I care about his stupid face!"_

Lance rubbed his eyes and tried to refocus on the jumble of words projected onto the board. At the very least, Hunk was available pretty much whenever. He could spend most of his time in his room and then just crash in his actual dorm. But what if that's what he wants? He was not about to get reverse-psychologied (Lance insists that's a word) into anything, no, he was going to stand his ground.

"McClain."

If Keith was going to be My Roommate from Hell, Lance was just going to have to be Keith's Roommate from A Deeper Circle Of Hell.

"McClain, can you try at least listening the next time you zone out with your hand raised?" Professor Shiro chided, some classmates giggling behind him. Lance gave a sheepish shrug and a "sorry".

Oh, it is on.

\---

Meeting at the library was not exactly Lance's first idea of a "cool hangout to meet up with Hunk's super chill and awesome new roommate", but he would take sitting in quiet room of airplane books any day over his life-threatening, constipation-inducing, slightly (frustratingly) attractive dorm buddy. Hunk had insisted that this kid was a genius- apparently they skipped kindergarten through third grade and got accepted to Galassia at the tender age of 16, and is now starting their sophomore year of Computer Sciences.

"Psst, Lance!"

"You don't have be that quiet, you know. Just don't yell."

Speak of the devil. Hunk tiptoed towards Lance's study table, followed by a small bespectacled companion.

"Lance, this is Pidge, my new roomie. And Pidge, this is Lance, who won't stop talking about his roommate who really isn't that bad."

"Hey, he is _TOO_ that bad!" Lance slumped in his chair and waved them over to sit down.

"Anyways, what did you want me for again? You didn't say a lot in your text." Hunk showed him the text conversation, which on Lance's part only said "meet me. it's time for mullet boy to die". Lance swatted it away, he knew what he said and _wasn't it obvious?_

"Listen. I need suggestions on how to be the worst roommate ever."

"Just be yourself." Hunk said, clearly disinterested in Lance's schemes.

Lance squinted at him. This was no petty game, _this was war._

\---

"Honey, I'm home." he said biting with sarcasm. He threw his jacket into the void and collapsed forward onto his disheveled bed. Weird, he thought he would've at least gotten some kind of response out of Shadow the Edgehog from that. He turned to look in his direction and found him completely unaware to his presence, face buried in his computer screen with a nonchalant expression.

It may not be worth all of the terrible luck he had the past few days, but he is not going to pass up a chance to scare the shit out of Keith.

"What're you lookin' at?" he said teasingly, clapping a hand on Keith's shoulder and _oh my god, it can't be._

"H-Hey can you fucking knock it off, oh my god?" Keith flushed bright pink, headphones sliding down his ears to rest on his shoulder and Lance just couldn't help but stare at those familiar, godlike arm muscles and relish in the fact that finally, _finally_ he something to blackmail him back with.

"College photos of the daddy student teacher?" Lance tried to push Keith's arm to get a better look and yep, he couldn't mistake that beautiful, chiseled face and body anywhere. He snatched the small laptop from his stupid gloved hands and scrolled through the photo folder (for evidence.) He apparently used to be the captain of the football team, and Keith just so _happened_ to find every picture of him published in the school newspaper all put together on a flashdrive, along with what looked like a couple model headshots- _oh man, is that an underwear shoot?_

Keith shoved backwards with his elbow but Lance persisted. "I said fuck off, jesus christ! And can you _not_ call him Daddy?" he said inbetween panicked jabs and shoves.

"Oh ho ho, I had no idea you were the type Keith!" Lance said mockingly, completely disregarding the little broken strings of if _you don't's_ and _fuck off's_ and _oh my God I will literally fucking murder you's_ as he held the darker-haired boy's laptop just out of his reach. "Where did you even get all of this anyway?" he grinned.

Keith continued to push and stretch to get a grip on the edge of laptop, forcing his voice out in strangled grunts. "None of your business, tall, dark and annoying!" Ouch.

Lance continued to jeer at him. "Hey, hey, it's okay! I'm just curious as a fellow fan of his rippling beautiful bod, between bros- y'know? _Compadres. Bromodachis_. Queen's _'Brohemian Rhapsod-_ "

"Some kid doxxed him for fun and distributed the files to anyone who asked. There. Can I have my laptop back now?" He was clearly exasperated, and possibly even more flushed from his confession to guilt. It was pretty cute actually, Lance thought before jumping and rolling from that train of thought back to his original intentions of terrorizing Keith.

"So you're admitting that you asked for pictures of Professor Shiro?" Lance was unrelenting.

"It's- it's not like that!"

"Someone's thirsty."

Keith rolled his eyes and jumped to snatch the computer from Lance's hands, nearly breaking his hold when he was caught off balance. He tumbled forwards, landing on top of the laptop-thief in a tangle of limbs and extremities. The laptop landed unscathed, fortunately for the both of them, but Lance was more distracted by the small freckles speckled over the higher parts of the other boy's cheeks and how soft his lips looked when he was pouting like that- _nope_ , not thinking about this right now.

"Soooo, do you think it's too late to ask you to send copies to my flashdrive?"

"Unbelievable." His eyebrows said he was angry, but his mouth unmistakably turned up a bit at the edges into a coy smile.

He totally kept thinking about his annoying (cute) freckled smile later.

\---

"It's pretty simple, actually. Google is a dangerous tool." they said, pushing up their glasses matter-of-factly and grinning. "Plus a little bit of social engineering here and there."

"Oh, _really_." Lance was intrigued.

"Hey guys, are you forgetting that doxxing is a crime? People get hurt from this stuff! We could get _arrested_!" Hunk said, talking with his hands now.

"If you want, I could show you the ropes." Pidge smirked and elbowed Lance's side. Hunk was desperately trying to signal, quietly, anything that meant no, no, stop what you're doing, I can see that glint in your eyes Lance and oh my god you're already doing it. Lance cracked his knuckles and leaned over to Pidge's computer screen. "All you need is someone to dox."

"Already got someone in mind." Lance grinned, tapping away at the keyboard. Let's see what dirt I can find on this guy.

"Can't you just, I don't know- ask them for information like normal civil people?" Hunk was still skeptic.

"Well, yeah, but where's the fun in that? Besides, there's some stuff you can find only on the internet." Pidge said, taking over Lance on the keyboard. "Like dating profiles."

"Wait, what?" Lance shoved the smaller kid out of the way, staring wide-eyed at the screen. Hunk, despite having been very against this two seconds ago, peered an eye over to look too.

 _Keith Kogane_  
19/M/Gay/Single  
Height: 5'9"  
Ethnicity: Vietnamese/Japanese  
Body Type: Athletic

That's as much as Hunk could read before Lance violently shut the computer and covered his face with his hands. This was too weird, and did that profile say Keith was _gay_? Not that he cared. But if he _was_ gay that changed some things. But not a lot because there's nothing _wrong_ with that he was just-

"Dude, look you're blushing, are you okay?" Hunk said between giggles.

"So that's what why you always talked about this guy. You think he's hot." Pidge snickered.

He was so fucked.

 

 


	4. it's not like your mom's dead or anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was angstier than I intended it to be but hey, Lance needed to know where the line was and when not to cross it >:///
> 
> I promise I have some fluffy things in store for next chapter ahh

Lance's sexuality was something that he rarely thought about. He knew he liked girls (because _honestly, have you seen them_ ) but he had always told himself that his appreciation for a nice ass was purely that- appreciation. It wasn't like he wanted to go touch some guy's ass just because it was nice, he just knew a guy was attractive when he saw them and he was comfortable in his questionable sexuality. He just didn't have crushes on guys, and that was the end of it (Professor Shiro doesn't count because he was obviously Adonis in human clothes and Lance is pretty sure every person in the right mind would want to tap that.) He figures if the right guy comes along, then _sure_ , but more often than not he saw dudes as competition.

And then there's Keith.

If Lance's life was a tranquil pool with the occasional pebble thrown to skip just across the surface, Keith was the jackhammer-spacecraft-meteorite-machine-gun _hellspawn_ sent by the Lord himself to devastate every last koi in the motherfucking pond, as he imagined it. Being roommates with him only made it painfully more obvious that he's not just annoying, but also very pretty. Which adds to his annoyance factor, of course.

Keith is not a terrible roommate. He gets up when his alarm sounds, and doesn't eat Lance's food when he leaves it in the mini fridge without a name. He does his own laundry, and sometimes Lance's when he gets frustrated with all of his clothes on the floor. He's never been loud, even once- he usually keeps to himself reading some stupid book that Lance never bothers to ask about because it's been the same one since he moved in and he probably reads about serial killers or something emo and slightly creepy. After two weeks of living with the guy, he's even come to forgive the two near-death experiences he caused.

His face was the problem. His jawline and cheekbones were distinct, but still soft, and his skin despite being covered in freckles glowed, smooth and paint-like. It wasn't just his face either, but also the fact that he's the top of the class and he only studies about as much as the average person ( _more than Lance, at least_ ), his outdated hair and clothing choices that actually worked on him for some reason, and his stupid charming smug attitude when he managed to both be a dormroom nag and _adorable_ simulaneously. He was so unavoidably cute that it was driving Lance crazy, because he both wants to drive this guy's ego into the ground and his back against the wall in a heated makeout session. Not to mention, he was also single. _And gay._

He hates him.

"Lance, if you're going to ignore the fact that there's an essay coming up to play whatever shitty FPS you're playing, could you at least keep it at a normal volume?" Keith said, spinning slowly around in his desk chair. He kept his hair in a ponytail while he studied, and it made his "intimidating" face a lot less effective.

"Nope." Lance reached for the remote and turned the volume up a couple notched higher, even.

Keith squinted and put his headphones back on, continuing to study over the sounds of in-game grenades and gunshots. He wrote furiously, as if to take out his anger on the lines of the paper, and groaned. Lance continued to turn the volume up.

"If you don't like it, the campus library is open 24 hours a day my dude." he shot him a shit-eating grin and eased back in the couch with his hands propped proudly behind his head.

"Can't you be the bigger person," Keith sat up forcefully, launching himself into a standing position by slamming his hands on the table and the chair. "For _once_!"

"Actually, I'm _pret-ty_ sure Little Lance is bigger than your shrimp dick." Lance stood up to lean in towards his face. _Pushing this guy was just too much fun._

"You're so childish. Can you stop thinking with your dick for two seconds?" He said,  
crossing his arms.

"Ring ring! The 80's called, _they want their hairstyle back_." Lance made a telephone motion with his hand. Keith pushes him, and Lance pushes back, forgetting that Keith trains 90 percent of the day, falling on his ass. He continues to push, kicking and swiping at his face and balls, anything to get the upper hand.

"Your brain," Keith's words come out as a grunt, punctuated by throttled and punches. "-is so self-centered, your _ego_ actually revolves around it."

" _Oooh_ , burn." Lance licks his finger and makes a " _tsss_ " sound, touching his shoulder. Keith grabs that arm and pins it.

"Do you ever shut up? I bet even you get tired of your own voice."

"Oh yeah? I bet your mom-"

"I don't even have a mom, asshole!"

_Oh._

Silence passed between them and Keith continued to glare at Lance with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth. They stayed like that, Lance opening his mouth to say something but instead making starts to words he never finished. Keith huffs a small " _whatever, it happened a long time ago_ " and slowly gets off of him and sits near his desk, running a hand through his hair. After a moment Lance sits up, supporting himself on his palms and looking downwards.

He sat for a while looking dumbly at his feet, while Keith continues to write ( _or at least he pretends to_ ), looking at anything but in his direction. His face was focused but his body language was relaxed, and Lance couldn't help but occasionally glance. Eventually, he sits up, dusts off his knees and cracks his back.

"Hey, Keith. I'm gonna go to Denny's, want anything?"

Keith squinted and huffed loudly. "Do you ever even th-"

Lance was crying. Not sobbing, but little stains ran down his cheeks and his eyes were clearly red. He gave some stupid toothy grin and dramatically wiped them away with a soft, weak " _just kidding_ ", like if he pretended that the tears weren't real that Keith would just get mad at him again, instead of going all doe-eyed and soft because he looked really pretty like that. _Which was annoying._ Lance didn't cry. Why would he cry? He wasn't hurt, his family fine and it was Lance who crossed the line, so why was he making himself an idiot in front of the pretty asshole who ruined his life?

"Uh," he scratched the back of his neck, and looked down, like the ground had answers on how to stop Lance from being a blubbering idiot. "Fries. _Or something_." He said it softly, like it was a suggestion and also a secret, continuing not to make eye contact.

Lance silently thanked him for not actually being a douche and pointing out that his face got really red when he cried, and headed out to his bike.

\---

If Keith and Lance were friends, they didn't show it. They bickered constantly, and stayed on opposite ends of their dorm whenever possible and to Hunk and Pidge's knowledge they never speak to eachother unless absolutely necessary. But there was something there that Pidge just couldn't put a name to. The malicious aura that Lance had around Keith had dissipated, Lance keeping his distance but still stealing soft glances when he though the other wasn't looking. That much wasn't surprising, but Keith's end of this "friendship" was much harder to read.

Hunk and Pidge got roped into helping Lance with laundry day (they were getting free food out of it) and it was almost comedic how they challenged each other to do the same mundane, banal tasks at the same time as far apart as physically possible. Keith was folding to himself on the other end of the room on his bed, while Lance stood near the furthest end of his own, folding clothes standing up and then setting them down where his friends sat. Keith faced their direction, keeping his head down, but Lance faced the opposite way, exaggeratedly trying to keep Keith as far out of his peripheral vision as he could manage.

Pidge continued to study their movements. Keith folded efficiently, pinching one edge of the shirt and pulling the top and bottom together in one swift motion. Lance, on the other hand, held each shirt out at arms length and folded it in half once, twice, and then set it down in wide, slow motions. They were polar opposites in every sense of the phrase. _Maybe frenemies?_

Every time Keith seemed to be ahead in folding, Lance would pick up the pace and fold just enough to make them even.

"Hey Pidge, do you sense a little... _rivalry_ between these two?" Hunk whispered so as not to stir anything between them.

Keith brushed off his bed, placing the last of his folded clothes into the drawer with a pointed, loud shut. Lance flinched at the noise, but continued to fold leisurely, but now almost defeatedly too. He strided towards Lance's bed, and picked up what little remained of the unfolded laundry. Before Lance could even protest, he had already quickly and neatly folded it, leaving it in a stacked pile. He returned to his side, flung his jacket over his shoulder and grabbed his keys.

"I'm gonna go buy some more dish soap." And he was gone.

Ah. _Friendly rivals_. Those were the words they were looking for.


	5. sweet dreams are made of these

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SO THIS CHAPTER TOOK WAY LONGER THAN IT SHOULD'VE AND IT'S TOO SHORT FOR IT'S OWN GOOD but I swear I tried to make this chapter good and I want to explore every part of this au possible because I love roommates aus so much
> 
> I just wanted to establish them as friends before the next chapter >:3c

Even for Lance, trying to hear the teacher's words was abnormally difficult. His voice was booming but fell short, like a broken speaker trying to emit a bass tone, unintelligible and squeaking. Lance squished his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to do anything that would maybe help him listen. Professor Shiro was speaking clearly, and yet his sentences just echoed in a way that was distracting, frustrating even, and Lance took in a shallow breath, exhaling in a short puff.

He quietly excused himself to take a breather, leaning his back against the cool wall of the hallway. _Just focus. Focus._ He rubbed his temples and groaned. _Focus_. What class was he even in? The back of his mind was hazy and it felt like someone was constantly pouring water and he was drowning in it. He could only tell someone had followed him out of the classroom when he turned and saw- _ugh, Keith_ \- standing and resting a shoulder on the edge of the doorway. He solemnly stared at it, sighing. When did he get here? His mouth moved but all Lance could hear was a voice. It wasn't strange anymore to him, but he wish he could hear what he was saying. He tried to get closer and ask him to repeat himself, bending at his hips and cupping his ear. He felt warm air behind his eyes and trickle down through his throat, seeping through his body and clouding him even further.

The mess of words were lost in a cloud of foggy thought, like the blood in his ear was rushing too fast for him to hear anything clearly. Keith realized something, turning, and folding his arms inwardly. _Please, let me hear you._ He said something Lance again couldn't hear, but his body language communicated enough for him to get the gist. Everything was numb and floaty.

"Keith, stay..." The words fell out of his mouth before he could agree with them, then trailed off.

Keith took his hands, and suddenly everything was crystal clear, like when the air pressure finally settles in your ear, and it brings back to life the sounds of the world with a satisfying "pop". He held them close to his chest, stepping closer and bringing their faces inches apart. A tingling feeling grew in his chest and rose higher to his cheeks, warm and pin-prickly but laced with ice. He gazed, half-lidded at Lance.

"Lance..."

He leaned in, closer, turning his head slightly and-

Lance woke up, rising sharply, nearly colliding with the figure above him while sweating and gasping for breath. Keith tumbled back from where he was standing over him, looking like a deer in headlights. Lance let a loud, piercing scream rip through him, and Keith lost his balance, falling to the floor.

"Dude, literally what the fuck?!" Keith balances himself with one hand and pushed his hair back with the other.

"Uh, _no_ , what the fuck to you?! Why were you watching me sleep?!" 

" _One_ , I wasn't watching you sleep, and _two_ , who the fuck wakes up screaming?!"

Lance was violently reminded of the small part at the end of his weird dream, and shoves his pillow into his face to let out another drawn out sobbing cry, muffled by the soft fabric. 

"What the fuck, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."

Keith groaned. "You kept mumbling stuff and I was trying to see if you were awake, jesus." He stood up, brushing off his light gray sweatpants, which Lance actively tried not to stare at.

Lance sat up a little straighter at this. "What was I saying?"

Keith folds his arms and looks to the side. "Uh, nothing really." He smooths back his hair and turns to walk to the kitchenette.

Lance pouts and rubs his eyes, then his whole face in an attempt to scrub out any remaining traces of his dream.  _That one's going in the vault._  He presses a thumb between his temples.  _Aaaaaand... It's gone._

Lance didn't have classes today, which usually meant he was going to crash at Hunk's place until he got kicked out, but Hunk started work at the bakery that day and Pidge was out Pokemon hunting with Allura (The sacrilege! His friend-of-a-friend stealing away _l'amour de sa vie!_ ) Lance was praying for some excuse to leave the house today, if not for himself then for his Snapchat story so at least it looked like he wasn't a loser with a pathetic total of two friends in the first semester of college. If he wanted to go somewhere he would have to bike, which was a pain in the ass especially if he wasn't even sure if he would be meeting anyone up there. He really only had a few options: stay inside and do nothing, go to the library and study ( _ha_ ), or ask a certain moody roommate if they had any plans. _Well, it can't hurt to ask?_

"Hey, you have something to do today, right?"

"No," he said, pausing to turn to look in his direction, taking a sip from his cup of tea. "Why?"

Damnit. He didn't think he'd get this far.

"Oh, uh," He started elegantly. "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out." _Shit, that sounds gay, save it McClain save it-_ "As bros." _Fuck_. He gave a crooked smile to cover up his slowly thinning bravado.

"Uh... sure?" He raised a brow, stirring his tea and sipping again. Lance was silent, awkwardly trying to think of how to continue the conversation. _Shit_ , what did he even do when hung out with Hunk? Talk? Eat food? That made it sound like a date. He dragged himself in too damn deep this time. "I was about to head out anyways, you could come with."

No. "Oh, hey, yeah sure!" What. "Yeah, just let me get my jacket." Why. "Just a sec." Why did he agree to this.

"So, where we goin'?" Lance jogged to catch up with the smaller boy, clasping a hand on his shoulder and grinning down at him. His chest tightened slightly at being so close to his face, but mentally shook the etch-a-sketch in his brain to clear out the thought.

"Well, since I already know you're going to be a dick-" 

"Hey! I take offense to that." He mock-pouted.

Keith scrunched up his nose and continued, reluctantly. "I'm buying a present for the student-teacher, so we're going to the mall." Lance made an ooooooo sound that was cut short by a quick jab to the gut.

"Wow dude, you must be really hung up on this guy. And the mall? You couldn't just order something?"

"You're the one who wanted to hang out, 'as bros'." He replied flatly, grunting slightly as he mounted his motorbike, not bothering to look in Lance's direction when he followed suit. Lance kind of forgot that neither of them had a car, so he felt bad that this would be third time that he's had to haul his ass around on his this thing ( _Maybe fourth if you counted when he fell off of his bike on the way back from getting it from the curb he left it on and Keith offered to slowly drive him around the corner just in case his ankle was hurt. It wasn't._ ) At this point, he might as well install damn passenger handles.

The outdoor mall wasn't bustling with people like it normally was when Lance visited with his cousins, allowing him to see that the mall is quite nice when your relative's tiny toddlers aren't pulling on each of your limbs in different directions trying to get you to help them see everything. Small crowds of people flittered between the shoe stores and cologne shops, taking pictures of the animal-shaped crepes and dual-tone ice cream cones towered high from the different dessert places that peppered every corner. Families and couples seemed to be everywhere, and the emptiness made Lance stick out like a sore thumb with his less-than-compatible friend over here. Friend? He looked at Keith, who seemed to be completely too absorbed in walking to notice anything but the ground ten feet in front of him, and pondered. Were they friends?

"Let's stop in Lush. I think I have a gift card." Keith pointed flatly and nodded in the direction of the store. Lance was about to make a remark about how Keith acquired the gift card, but the way the smaller boy's eyebrows threaded together as Lance smirked at him set off the tiny danger alarms somewhere in his head.

"My complexion _haaaas_ been kind of dry lately. I could use a product demo, mayhaps?" Lance shot a lopsided grin before being dragged by the jacket sleeve in.

(They don't do anything that resembles looking for a gift throughout their entire store visit.

_"Lance, don't eat that that's soap- ah, shit, spit it out-"_

Fucking around and spending time with each other is nice, too _._ )

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I changed some minor things about the fic throughout- nothing major though!!! Thank you so much for all the nice comments ahhhhh you all are so sweet


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